


Adherence to the Creed

by The_Changamire



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, For the most part, Mandalorian Clans (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mandalorian History (Star Wars), Resol'nare (Star Wars), The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Changamire/pseuds/The_Changamire
Summary: "Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader—all help us survive. We must educate our children as Mandalorians, obey the commands of Mandalore, speak Mando'a and defend our clans. This is the Way."Din's search for Mandalorians on Tatooine is not in entirely in vain. A Clan of two becomes a Clan of three with the unexpected arrival of an ally.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 22





	Adherence to the Creed

Kalon Pa sat comfortably in his new seat, absently count the stack of credits he held in his hand, a grin on his smug face.

_Life is good,_ the human thought to himself. Even though it had merely been two days since the Mandalorian had left Gor Koresh for dead, never had Kalon lived in such luxury. Since his former employer’s death, he had seized all his assets and had taken a firm grasp of his contacts. In one fell swoop, he had secured himself as the top dog of Lodhan, and he couldn’t be happier. Now, if only that Mando hadn’t escaped with his beskar, but, that was they way things were. _If he ever shows his helmeted face here again, I’ll just take it off his hands. Until then, let sleeping krayts lie,_ Kalon smirked, before returning his gaze to the credits before him. 

Suddenly craving a drink, Kalon reluctantly set the credits atop his new desk before striding to the door, intent on having on of the servents in his employ bring it to him. Sliding the door opened, Kalon was mildly surprised when he came face to face with his Gamorrean guard who was supposed to be patrolling the building. Then the surprise gave way to mild anger, and Kalon grunted in annoyance. _This is the third time those brutes have asked for a raise! I can only take so much, damn it!_ “For the last kriffing time, I _don’t care_ if you ‘deserve’ a raise! You’ll get paid the same amount you got paid when--”

The man was cut off with a literal _blam_ , then just as quickly the Gamorrean was falling forward limply, and Kalon flinched backwards with a yelp when he noticed the burn hole in the back of the non-human’s head. The man held back a frightened scream.

“Sup.”

In an instant, Kalon’s eyes jerked back up from the corpse on the floor to the doorway where the origin of the voice now currently stood leveling a sidearm at his face, and inwardly, Kalon let out a wail. 

_Oh stars above, it’s a Mando. Bata protect me._

Had the other Mando sent this one to take revenge? Shavit, he’d only been living like this for _two days_! He didn’t want to die yet! He had so many things he wanted to, places to see, people to extort! 

So, with that in mind, Kalon Pa took the only option that was left to him-- 

He begged.

“T-take whatever you want!” Kalon stuttered, raising his hands in surrender, well away from his holstered blaster. “There’s plenty of credits in here if you want--”

The Mando shook her head. “Nah, that’s not what I came for.”

Nonchalantly stepping her way over the corpse, the Mandalorian stalked closer to Kalon, who backed up further away, as _far away_ as the room could allow. It wasn’t all that much, unfortunately. “Th-then, what is it that you want? Money?! A job?! I’ve got plenty of pucks if you need one, even a vacant spot or two in my security detail!” _One of the vacancies is your doing._

Unwillingly, his traitorous eyes jerked back to the corpse for a split second before he managed to reign them in. The Mandalorian, unfortunately for him, seemed to have noticed the minuscule glance, but seemingly chose to ignore its implied insult, simply shaking her head. “Nah, I don’t need that, either.” She paused for a moment, before shrugging. “...Actually, I’ll take the creds, thanks. _Buuut_ I’m gonna just need you to tell me where the last Mando who was here went, too.”

Kalon blinked.

“I… what? That’s it?”

All she wanted was information? That was all? Well then, thankfully he could, and _would_ , give that freely if it meant he lived another day. He had no qualms with that, and if the Mandalorian wanted to hunt for larger prey or join up with a fellow Mando, Kalon was not stupid enough to get in her way. “T-tatooine! He’s on Tatooine! Went hunting for some other Mando who was there!” When the woman raised her blaster menacingly, Kalon flinched back again, heart thumping in his chest. “Please, that’s the truth, I swear by the Bata!”

Silence. 

Kalon waited for the worst, for the telltale sound of a blaster-bolt then the searing pain that would instantly accompany it. He waited, yet he heard no such thing. All Kalon heard was the sounds of movement around the room, and then…

...nothing.

When no damning blaster-bolt came, Kalon Pa opened his eyes again to find the the Mando was gone, and so were his credits.

…

_..._ Well, at least he was still alive.

He’d take that over stolen credits any day.

* * *

Settling down in the cockpit of her ship, the Mandalorian removed her helmet with a relieved sigh. “Tatooine, huh?” Rahab pondered before shrugging and punching in the route for the desert planet. “A’ight, then.”

* * *

**_Verburyc at te Ara_ **

* * *

He should have seen this coming. 

He _should have seen this coming_ and because of his stupid oversight the kid was going to get hurt.

Actually, come to think it, if Dinn didn’t deal with the bounty hunters currently ganging up on him, he’d probably end up more hurt than the child would; at least the child was wanted alive by Gideon. _He_ , on the other hand…

Well, he had an idea as to how much he was worth to Gideon, and that worth was most likely comparable to that of a womp rat’s, not that it mattered to the Mandalorian.

...Actually, maybe Dinn would have preferred it if he was at least worth bringing in alive, maybe that way bounty hunters wouldn’t keep trying to shoot the Razor Crest out of the sky--

A fist slammed into the boulder behind him as Dinn nimbly dodged the blow, and he mentally shoved those thoughts aside. _Focus. The child needs you. Your Clan is in danger. Defend it! The Resol’nare demands it!_ With that all-consuming mentality in mind, Dinn pulled himself away from one of his assaulters before slamming his shoulder into the hunter, who grunted. Before the man could recover, Dinn wrenched the bounty hunter’s weapon from his grasp and slashed the blade across the man’s throat, felling him instantly. _That’s one. Where are the--_

The bounty hunter’s allies made themselves known immediately by tackling Dinn into the dune boulder, and the Mandalorian grunted, dropping the blade as he attempted to pull himself out of the hunter’s hold. Slamming his fist into the enemy’s stomach with enough force to leave the enemy gasping for breath, Dinn lurched forward with the intent to make use of the newly acquired freedom, only to be shoved hard against the boulder by the Kajain'sa'Nikto who seemed to be leading the bunch. The Mando struggled against them both for a bit, before the third, Jawa-like sentient aimed a heavy-looking rifle blaster their way, and Dinn used his free hand to fire his fibercord whip at it, before yanking it back and reeling it in with enough force to knock his two assailants unconscious. 

Finally, Dinn extracted himself from their holds, only to come face to face with a situation he was very much not a fan off.

The Jawa-like sentient, who had, so far, had been more of a hindrance to its fellow bounty hunters insofar, had managed to find the Child in the midst of the battle and was holding him and knifepoint. To not only cap it off, Dinn could spy a fast approaching ship closing in from the horizon. _Damn it! If it was just the one hunter, I could deal with him, but…_ The only reason a ship would fly this far out in this direction specifically was to aid someone, and Dinn had no allies nearby, not with Cara and Greef on Nevarro and the Tribe having fled to an as-of-yet undisclosed location to him. As much as it galled him to do this, the safety of the Clan came first, always, and the Child was in danger. _Defend him!_

“Wait! Don’t hurt the Child,” Dinn pleaded spoke placatingly, holding his open palms towards the alien to show he had no weapons in hand. The knife the sentient was holding paused, and the Mandalorian breathed a relieved, however temporary that relief was, sigh. “If you put one mark on him, there’s no place in the Galaxy you’ll be able to hide from me.”

(Dinn, with one-hundred percent certainty, meant that with all his heart. He would hunt down _any and everyone_ who dared to hurt one of his Clan.)

Within his helmet, Dinn shot an anxious glance at the approaching ship. _I need to find someplace to hide, at least, with the Child._ “There’s a lot of value in this wreckage. Take your pick. _Choose quickly_ , he urged, but by then it was too late. The ship was all but hovering over them, no doubt filled to the brim with more mercenaries than he could handle, and--

\-- _Wait._

_I recognize that ship design. That’s a Kom’rk! A Mandalorian class ship!_ What was one doing all the way out here? Dinn hadn’t seen one of those in ages, not since before the Great Purge.

Apparently only just noticing the ship now that it was almost directly above them, the alien looked up and let out a sound of confusion, and Dinn raised a unseen eyebrow. _If that’s not a friend of his, then who could be--_

The Mandalorian’s thoughts cut out just in time for him to realize, as the ship’s entry-ramp bean to lower, that the alien holding the Child hostage was distracted, look upwards, away from him.

That was a mistake.

Dinn instantly went for his gun, scooping it from the ground in record time before swinging it towards the alien’s head--

\--only to be beaten to the punch when a single bolt fired from the open entry-ramp, burning a hole in the alien’s head, and the sentient dropped dead. The Child, now free from harm, lightly rolling out of its grasp and began waddling over to him. Dinn, for his part, did not wait around to sight who shot first, immediately rushing to the Child and sweeping him into the Mandalorian’s arms before backing away from the ship as it’s landing gear extended.

“You okay?” he asked softly, cradling the kid against his chest, and the Child cooed happily, seemingly uninjured, and Dinn lips quirked upwards beneath his helmet. Then he gently placed the kid behind him before turning back towards the ship, blaster raised and aimed at the figure striding down the entry-ramp, only to lower when Dinn noted _what_ the figure was.

_A Mandalorian._

Said Mandalorian, who had no weapons in hand, gave a short wave in greeting. “Hey. Looks like I finally found you.” She glanced at the corpse laying by the ramp. “Just in time, too.”

Dinn nodded at that. “You have my thanks for that.” He probably could have handled it had her appearance not caught him off guard, but pondering on the past changed nothing. Besides, that was hardly relevant now. Deciding he could trust his fellow Mandalorian, Dinn once more scooped up the Child, who had been gazing curiously at the Mandalorian woman from behind his leg, and strode over to her, stopping within arms length. “I’ve been searching for more of our kind for some time now, and picked up a lead here. Turned out to be nothing, but apparently not.” Dinn shot her a scrutinizing look. “How long have you been watching me?”

The woman shrugged. “Not long. I just arrived planetside ‘bout five hours ago, maybe a few more. I _was_ tracking you, though.”

“Why?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of our kind, so when I caught wind of a Mando wandering around the Outer Rim, I decided to test my luck,” the Mandalorian shrugged again. “Glad I did. So, what about you?” she asked suddenly, turning the question on him, and Dinn only hesitated momentarily before informing her.

“I’ve been quested to bring _this one_ \--” he shifted the kid closer in her direction, and the Child giggled. “--to his kind. I was told that others of our kind could help me in locating his people, but I haven’t had much luck in finding any others yet, until you found me.” Dinn nodded to the Mandalorian. “If you have any--”

Dinn was cut off by his fellow Mandalorian raising her hand to halt him. “Sorry, gimme a sec.” 

Then, without warning, she reached for her helmet, and pulled it off. 

* * *

“ _Aaaah_ , that’s better. It was getting sweaty under that.”

In all honesty, the situation with her armor that was entirely her fault. 

Rahab had been the one to request that her armor be forged with Space-worthiness in mind, which led to it being airtight, and that was well-and-all in actual _Space_ , but it was really bothersome planetside. _Especially_ on planets that had two, twin hot suns that beat down on massive desert seas. Rahab couldn’t take off her chestplate at the moment, but she _could_ remove her helmet, which is what the Mandalorian did. There was only so long she could take the nigh-unbearable heat, though she had expected such problems to plague her as soon as she set her sights on the desert planet.

What Rahab hadn’t accounted for was the Mandalorian she had been trailing to call her out as a thief.

“Where did you get that armor?”

The Mandalorian’s tone was low, ominous, and Rahab saw his gloved hand twitch towards his blaster, and she frowned. It was times like these that she was glad people couldn’t seem to see her eyes beneath her bangs. “I reforged it from my old man’s a long time ago.” 

Rahab’s accuser shook his head in disbelief. “You do not cover your face. You do not follow the Way. You are not Mandalorian.”

The amicable atmosphere between the two Mandalorians suddenly turned cold, despite the hot blaring suns, and Rahab’s mind raced. _I don’t cover my face. Where’ve I-- Oh._ “You’re one of them, huh?”

Breaking off what Rahab assumed was an accusatory glare from beneath his helm, she could almost say she looked confused. “One of _what_ , exactly?”

Blinking, Rahab stared at the Mandalorian who, whilst accusing her of not being a part of the peoples she had been born into, seemed to have no idea about what _he_ had been inaugurated into. “A Child of the Watch.”

* * *

“The Watch?”

In all his time with the Tribe, he had heard no mention of The Watch. What was it, and why would this thief who claimed to follow the Creed associate it with him?

“A group of Mandos who broke away from Mandalore itself after the New Mandalorians rose to power,” Dinn’s fellow not-Mandalorian explained to him. “A cult, basically, who followed no way but their own.”

_...The Armourer never spoke of this. Mandalore is a cursed place, all know this. The thief speaks lies._

Dinn began to walk again, striding past the not-Mandalorian to retrieve his things from the wreckage. “There is only one Way. The Way of the Mand’alor.” He continued to walk, even when he heard the thief turn to face him, and only stopped when she began to speak again, reciting a rhyme in Mando’a that he had not heard since his time as a young Foundling. 

_“Education and armor,”_ the thief(?) murmured. _“Self-defense, our tribe.”_ Louder, now. _“Our language, our leader—”_

_“--all help us survive.”_ Dinn finished, before slowly turning back. _“_ This is the Way."

“This is the Way,” the woman nodded, and Dinn studied her for a moment before giving a small nod back. “Perhaps we should discuss this in detail,” he reluctantly admitted. Mando’a was all-but extinct, and here another Mandalorian was, speaking it as fluently as one born on Mandalore itself. Perhaps she was who she claimed to be?

“We probably should, yeah,” the woman agreed, before walking up besides him. “Let’s get your stuff, and I’ll give you and your cute kid a ride back to Mos Eisley.” When Dinn gave her a look, the woman simply shrugged. “It’s a long way back, and your speeder’s trashed. D’you wanna walk?”

“..." Dinn sighed. As much as he would prefer to not accept her aid, he didn't want the kid to die of heatstroke, so... "Just help me pick my stuff up, please.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rahab the Mandalorian is not my character in the slightest. I just wanted to write about a tomboy mando and Imma do it. Credit goes to DeputyRustArt.


End file.
